Hindsight
by Sadissive
Summary: After his parents walk in on him having an intimate moment with Doc, Marty is sent away to a psych ward and is convinced by the adults in his life that Emmett had violated him, though their encounter was consensual. Marty’s left to pick of the pieces of the after math and sort through his feelings and find out the truth, all the while searching for a missing Emmett.
1. Suicide Watch

Hello! A new Back to the Future story for this barren archive.

TW: Rape discussion, implied.

"We weren't careful, no, not careful enough," Marty thought to himself as he sat in his shut in bedroom, mind swimming with various subjects. Hindsight is twenty twenty, of course, but what's hindsight when you have a time machine? Marty knew he would always have hindsight if he set the digital number pad in the DeLorean further into the future, but does it matter if the damage has already been done? Marty pose this question to himself daily, but yet, he'll do it again. Doc's voice echos in his mind as it did when the older first asked the damned question.

"If you can't alter the past, what good is hindsight?"

Marty let out a breath of air as he rubbed the back of his neck softly, his nails leaving fine white marks on the tanned skin. He felt the irritation of his plastic hospital wristband rub uncomfortably, complete with name and date of birth accompanied by various numerals that correlated to his own personal ID. Removing his hand from his neck, he studied the plastic bracelet as his arms rested on top of his jeaned thighs. It was laminated and on tight, not wanting any patient to get any bright ideas of choking on it as a form of suicide. Frowning to himself, the morning light hitting his face from the poorly shut blinds, he stood up from where he resided and decided to leave his room, but not before giving a small pat of the head to Einstein, who slept soundless on the floor of his dirty laundry. At least one good thing came of this disaster.

Walking out of his cluttered bedroom, Marty shuffled his socked feet along the carpet till he entered the high end kitchen. Opening drawers slowly, not wanting to make too much noise, he rummaged until he found a pair of old red scissors that would do the trick. With a nice, "snip," he cut the wrist band away from his body and made note of the imprint he saw against the once smooth skin. Though tacky, he did what he saw the prison inmates do in movies. With his right hand, he rubbed and massaged the left wrist where the skin was red from the plastic, as if one would do with handcuffs.

Marty stopped all movements and held his breath, raising an eyebrow when he heard a creek from the hallway that was short lived. Judging by his opinion of the only person who cared enough to spy on him, he spoke while facing the front door, still in the kitchen, headed tilted down with shut eyes.

"You don't have to hide, Mom. I'm just taking off my wristband, nothing more."

From the hallway after a moment of silence in the air, Lorraine stepped out from hiding. She walked slowly into the kitchen with her pink floral pajama outfit, crossing her arms with a soft frown plastered on her face. She stood in the entry way, a good ten feet from Marty with a soft sigh that left her lips. She spoke softly, only when Marty opened his eyes and turned himself to see her. "I'm not hiding, Marty. I'm hovering."

Marty give a small scoff, a smile creeping onto his lips. He felt self conscious of himself when he saw his mother eyeing his body with a disapproving, "Oh, honey, you slept in your clothes again?"

She walked closer to him until she could reach out and pull the red t-shirt fabric away from the center of his chest with two fingers, pinching the fabric and letting go after a moment. Chalk it up to a mother action rather than a fashion judgement. Sticking his hands on his jean pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet, Marty shook his hand. Hesitant to cause his mother anymore worry, which he was certainly it would, he confessed with a cringe from the pending damage, "I, uh, didn't sleep last night. Too much on my mind. I was thinking about how I gotta start school next week and I'm already falling behind wh-"

Interrupting with her right hand going to his left cheek, the richer timeline Lorraine shook her head slowly. She stopped him mid sentence with the warming action. Using her thumb to slowly drag across his cheek lovingly, she talked at a hushed volume to not wake the others. "Now, Marty, we aren't going to rush this. You're not going back until your father and I feel like you're ready. Your school has already agreed to work with us to make sure you don't fall behind. They'll help you work extra hard to catch up. Actually, Mr. Strickland said he'd help you himself."

Letting go of her son when a synchronized timer went off, Lorraine gasped at the noise and turned to her stove to shut off the pastel pink timer that rested on the upper lip. Marty muttered to himself, nose crinkling and mouth twisting, "That's what I was afraid of."

The mother hummed a meaningless tune as she turned off the timer and began to fill up the fancier black coffee pot with hot water from the tap, all expensive filtered water, of course.

Turning to escape into his room, Marty walked out of the kitchen and creaked the lower floorboards until his blood ran cold and heart froze from the words of his mother's lips. She called from the kitchen, voice warm and full of good intentions, "And, Marty? Try to sleep and smile some. You were violated, not killed. You're still here."

Hands going numb as if he was truly frost bitten, he shut his eyes tightly for a moment. Marty tried to answer with something of a, "thank you," but instead produced the sound of his voice cracking with a pained noise that led to a coughing fit, throat dry. He walked into his room with a quick pace, shutting the door behind him. Back against the door, he locked it with the golden handle and slid down the painted wood into his own puddle of sorrow. Marty, without warning, sobbed into his hands as he tried his best to muffle his cries. Oh, what a month.

Einstein comforted him, now awake with a soft yip of a yawn, laying his head on Marty's jeans while his brown eyes stared up at Marty, occasionally moving his tail a few ways every time they made eye contact as he waited patiently for another exchange of looks. Marty thought back to the start of all this, forcing himself to remember the truth without a bias opinion. Think, McFly, what really happened?

It was the beginning of October when everything went wrong, currently the start of November. It was a day like any other. School, Strickland write-ups, Jennifer's kisses- nothing was out of the ordinary. Marty had decided to skip out on going to his father's celebratory dinner at a fancy restaurant that Friday night with his family (and father's editor) to recognize another best seller his dad had produced, this one being a sequel to, "A Match Made in Space", where the protagonist has three kids who turn out to be aliens.

Uncanny.

Marty, hoping to get lucky and not thinking his rewrote timeline family would care if he hung back, he invited Jennifer over for a romantic evening alone. His parents promised that the house would be clear for the evening and that they'd return the day after, going out of town to a five star restaurant they heard only positive raves about. It worked perfectly for Marty, the only hard part reassuring his mother that he didn't need a babysitter since he was almost eighteen.

Emergency contact numbers on the fridge along with pizza money, he was golden for an evening of sensual jazz music and freedom of his virginity. He didn't think it was a half bad plan.

His family left once all the kids got off school, being teased by his siblings of being a loner and worried questions from both parents, they all left with a change of clothes and empty stomachs. Marty dashed to the phone once he saw the car leave his driveway, still watching out the window for a solid minute.

Nearly clicking his heels when Jennifer answered the dial tone, his excited attitude quickly turned sour when he heard his girlfriend explain how she needs to stay with her grandma for the next few days to help out and do chores for her. Voice cracking, Marty wrapped his fingers around the twisted wired phone, "J-Jen, hey, you can't, uh, get out of it? I mean-"

He shifted his weight, letting out a nervous chuckle as he felt his mood sink quicker than a bowling ball in water. He whispered to the phone, as if his parents were waiting outside of the front door to bust him, "Tonight is the big night, Jen. We didn't get to go to the lake because it rained- My parents are out of town and I got my room cleaned-"

He was cut off by the annoyed sigh of Jennifer on the other line, something he heard so rarely that made him pull the phone away from his ear, squint at the corded white plastic phone, then put it back to his ear.

"Marty. I can't get out of it. I know you keep saying how you're worried your gonna be the only eighteen your old who hasn't, you know, but I promise you that we'll have some alone time soon, okay? When we do, I'll make it worth your while, babe. I'll let you do whatever you want to me and show you just how heavenly I can make you feel."

A shiver electrifying Marty's spine, he couldn't help but smile at the phone that rested on a wooden table near the front door. Not wanting her to get caught having phone sex at her grandma's, knowing this would keep his active imagination entertained for a while, he gave a nod to nobody and replied with a small, low chuckle, "How can I say no to that? Reschedule it is, then. Hey, tell your grandma I said hello. I'm gonna call in some grub."

Saying their goodbyes, the pair hung up their phones. A satisfied smile from Marty, his eyes glanced over the cream colored walls to the photos of the children from various stages in their lives. It was something he had been meaning to talk to Doc about, wanting to know if there was a way to somehow access this timeline of Marty's memories. He wanted to remember going on expensive vacations and quality time together as a family unit, but alas, he wasn't the Marty that was in the photos.

Shaking his head, Marty dialed the Doc's phone number and waited for an answer. Talking briefly, Marty invited over his close companion to stay for a order in pizza dinner and explain to him how memories in timeline worked, even offering to throw Einstein a slice of the older brought him. Emmett agreed with a cheerful tone, not ever much leaving his garage due to social anxiety. He could do a night away with Marty and Einstein, excited to chat the night away with the house to themselves.

What awaited them that night was anything but casual. The stars had aligned their future to be more intimate than Marty had ever dreamed of. Doc came over an hour after their phone call with Einstein following happily at his feet, greeting Marty in the doorway once he was invited inside and instantly began to talk about various relationships and how they can form your own different versions of memories on a timeline, explaining that if you had a close relationship in another timeline, those feelings will still be present in this new one and previous memories you shared may still be intact and have happened in the current timeline.

Discussing feelings, using Jennifer as example, led the pair to talk about Marty and Jen's relationship as a whole. The two sat on the couch with a space between them, curtains closed and yet having to order their dinner on the telephone, but instead Marty having broke into his mother's very small stash of red wine that she kept tucked away in the higher pantry for special occasions, pouring both of them a generous portion in vintage wine glasses encrusted with etch. Marty expressed with embarrassment, but confidence the secret was safe, that he was going to be eighteen and still a virgin. Flirting arose from Marty's mouth when Doc was curious how he hadn't done the deed with how popular he was with the ladies, Marty going into detail of how he was awfully lonely at night when he had nobody to help wear himself out enough for bed. It was either the half glass of wine talking or his feelings, knowing he wasn't drunk, but buzzed. It was him pouring his heart out, not any alcohol, but why drink and say things you'll forget if you don't have the liquor as a possible excuse if things got too awkward?

It was Marty who moved himself into the shocked Doc's lap with a soft giggle as he wrapped his shaky arms around the Hawaiian collared neck. It was Marty who sloppily kissed the man with a red stained tongue slipping in after Emmett stopped fighting back. It was Marty who slowly started to remove both of their shirts with a soft grind of his hips, moaning into the kiss when his growing erection bumped Doc's stomach just right. Emmett didn't resist, no, but suggested that what they were doing was wrong and could land them in trouble that they weren't prepared for. Not listening, Marty insisting that Emmett took him right there on the couch and fulfilled his wish of losing his virginity, something Jennifer had promised him that night. He had wanted Doc for months, and damn it, he was going to pop his cherry tonight one way or another.

Their actions heating up, fifteen minutes later Marty was groaning with Doc's panting as a background symphony that was loud enough that Einstein awoke from his nap. Doc was fully in Marty as the younger rode him from the couch, bouncing his body on Emmett's lap as he begged for the older to not let him go and to never stop. Doc gave Marty kisses any chance he could, offering to stop at anytime contrary to his request of never easing up as Marty's pink hole engulfed the thick cock on repeat. Marty's own hard erection bounced between them as he felt Emmett explore his tight cavern roughly, switching from pinching Marty's erect nipples to his hands guiding the teenager on his dick to match rhythm. "You're so fucking hard, Doc, I'm gonna, ah, cum!" Marty's head swam with emotions as he neared orgasm- until his front door opened without the single sound of keys. He hadn't locked it earlier, too excited at the thought of calling Jennifer.

Marty doesn't remember how he felt or much of what happened. He dissociated in its purest form, only recalling bits of the facts and not his feelings. He couldn't place what happened when his family opened the door, but instead his mind only allowed him to jump to the memory of his eyes frantically searching for Doc from the living room floor as his mother covered him up with a blanket that rested on the back of the couch. It's as if the timeline, for him, glitched. One moment he was on top of Doc and the next he was confused on the carpet, buck naked.

He remembered how angry and disgusted his mother and father were for about five seconds, till they saw the delayed response of Marty's eyes along with his cherry red tongue that had the odor of strong straight alcohol. Realizing the involvement of booze, they connect two and two themselves while sudden pained cries from Lorraine and sheer anger from George. They came to the conclusion that:

Doc had came over with the intent to get Marty drunk, relaxed, and to get their underage baby boy naked and brain washed to think it was normal.

Marty tried to protest, reassuring that no such thing happened and he was the one who asked for it, but his words were drowned out at the voice of his father calling the police chief that he was close friends with. During the time that Marty's memory blocked out what happened, Doc had someone escaped the house in a hurry. The police, now being in formed, sent out a massive search for Doc that turned into a state wide manhunt. His information and portrait was printed onto flyers and hung up anywhere that had a barren wall all over the state of California. Not even the homeless could escape the face of Emmett Lathrop Brown as they resided under bridges of highways, his face appearing on the pillars that held up the cement roadway.

Rumors spread, some saying Emmett broke into the house and raped Marty while he was sleeping, others saying that he drugged Marty and kept him as a sex slave for weeks in the house basement, thought the home didn't even HAVE a basement. The only part that stayed consistent was that the boy, Marty Seamus McFly of 9303 Lyon Drive, Lyon Estates, CA, had been raped by a man four times older than him in his own home. That part was spread with every repeat of the story, every new detail that was created out of thin air by some nosy community member. Marty was no longer an aspiring musician who had big dreams and a loving home and several hobbies- No, he was the stupid boy who didn't watch out for the warning signs of a predator and turned from a human being into a victim.

After several police questionings, all of which Marty insisted Doc was the one who protested if anything, Marty was committed to a mental institute for nearly three weeks. They were worried of not only his sanity, but of suicide attempts that he may pursue since rape victims often found themselves "confused". His parents, scared and unsure of what to do, signed over the rights of the almost adult.

Marty recalled, still laying against his door, the torture it was to talk to a psychiatrist. A man who knew nothing about him reassured that his thoughts were wrong and that, obviously, he had been manipulated by an older man and sexual assaulted. He used the evidence of alcohol against Doc, claiming of how he "knew what he was doing" when MARTY pulled out the booze. After literal hours, several days, of the same psychiatrist, Marty started to believe him. He couldn't escape the words that he was a victim and was took advantage of. After hearing it so many times, he started to question his memories of the situation. He was released on the terms that he would be under close watch of his parents and would return to school only if he was ready, and this was only after his brain had been shook up enough to believe that Emmett, his Doc, had came over with malicious intent and raped him.

As Marty sobbed against the door, enter body quaking and begging for stress relief, he half heartedly patted his new pet. His blue eyes drifted to the ceiling as the tears spilled uncontrollably. His mind was confused, unsure if that night even happened or if his life was even real. What kind of fucked up timeline did he create for himself? Why couldn't he just have locked the door? Why couldn't he had waited for Jennifer and not cheated? Why couldn't he just be held, in this moment, by the one person he was told he should hate the most that was still missing and on the run?

If you can't alter the past, what good is hindsight?


	2. Panic Provider

Hello! Thanks for checking out another chapter of Hindsight! Be sure to leave feedback if you're feeling up to it- I love reading the comments of my stories to let me know how I'm doing. Enjoy!

Marty shook his head as he rode his black with yellow striped skateboard down the long cement road that was known as, "Riverside Drive", asking himself mentally how stupid was he. As he drove himself down the hard ground, eyes focused on any cars that might come barreling at him at from any connecting street while he skated dead center, he tried not to question his own actions with second guesses. Here he was, delusional as all Hell, on his way to see if the now infamous Doc Brown was anywhere to be seen. He felt like he did when he was twelve, chasing rumors of the mysterious man that resided in a garage. If only the younger version had known that the man was inside and to NOT break in for his own personal sneak peak. As much as he loved Doc- or did, at least- maybe it would have been the better if the young McFly would've obeyed the laws and not committed a felon?

Their relationship had tender moments, but was the heartache having been worth the soft seconds?

Letting out a sigh that was seen in the November air, chilled frost awaiting Marty if he was in any less amount of layers, he arrived at the address. He adjusted his large brown winter coat, jeans shifting when his shoes kicked up his skateboard for him to grab. At the driveway curb of the residence, he stared at the home of Emmett. It had no signs of occupancy from what he guessed was at least a month, the start of when this entire catastrophic situation arose. He hyped himself up until he had enough courage to walk up to the gated entrance with his skateboard in hand, mumbling the words to some distant Michael Jackson song to keep his brain rid of the poking anxiety.

Going to the garage door once he surpassed the silver gate, his eyes wandered down the paneling and framework of the building till his feet stopped to the front door. Taking in a breath of hope, one which he held briefly, he allowed himself to exhale after he lifted the welcoming mat from the cold ground in hopes of an object to be staring back. One golden key laid proudly underneath the badly hidden hiding spot, a twinge of luck or method repetition coming his way. Some things never change, no matter the timeline

Picking up the key, he unlocked the doorknob and proceeded to enter the once warm home. Marty's blue eyes shifted across every object, every piece of paper throughout the garage till he felt as if he could be at peace with his discovery. Nobody was home and haven't been for quite some time.

He gingerly sat the key back on the cement and kicked the rug flat over it, pondering how long it would take till one of the investigators figure out such an obvious point of entry. He was surprised at the lack of police tape that he expected to be around the property, but as it turned out, the police chief had asked to keep all signs of disturbance away from the residence in hope Doc would return thinking he was out of the woods only to have the police called by the watchful neighbors. Marty closed his eyes tightly for a moment, shaking his head free of the twisting sharp nervous reminder that Doc could appear at any moment. He was in the enemy's house, after all.

Marty didn't let his skateboard out of his left armpit as he took a few more steps into the messy garage, not being able to help himself as he let out a very small laugh at the sight of the burnt red car that was used clear back in the fifties now resting on top of the small bed Doc had claimed as Marty's. Marty had been playing with it absentmindedly the last time the two shared the house together, discussing the endless equations of time travel and the ever falling apart space time continuum of what little insight Marty could provide, more of reassuring Emmett with approval of whatever scientific language he was speaking in that Marty couldn't understand a word of. Those memories to Marty now felt bitter, making his eyes no longer be filled with joy as they were a moment ago. The only replacement suitable for him was despair at the path this timeline had took all because of him, another major event now his fault. At least with Biff getting the almanac and becoming insanely rich he had his scientist interest by his side. Now, he walked lonely.

Not wanting to be reminded of the sadness that followed their past together, Marty turned on his Nike clothed heel to leave. As he took a step to leave, his eyes caught something familiar. It was the leather brown mind map helmet that Emmett had created over four or five decades ago, dusty and sitting on top of useless machine parts that resided near the door. Knowing how Doc "organized" things, he was guessing that the mind map helmet was fit to be thrown into the garbage.

Hesitantly, he grabbed the helmet with his free right hand as he walked to leave. Marty always was the sentimental type and besides, he was skateboarding on rough roads. Safety first.

By the time Marty had gotten home after skateboarding throughout the alleys and hotspots of Hill Valley, it was nearing midnight when he rolled into his house. After having several long talks with his parents, they gave him enough leash to come home by the tick of a new day. The didn't want him out all night, especially while the young man was still on suicide watch, but they felt like he had been punished enough with the several uncomfortable and unfortunate days that had been brought to Marty. They didn't want to suffocate him, allowing him to continue to leave the house as he normally would with the occasional phone call.

Marty opened the front door, eyes adverting from the sofa where he was violated once he entered the house. His legs screamed of begging relief from skating around all day like a hooligan, something he hadn't done in a month or so. Ignoring the physical request, Marty tossed his skateboard and mind map helmet near his shoes that he slipped off next to the entrance along with the mess of shoes from the rest of the residence in the home. He smiled to himself as he softly shut the front door, whistling as he made his way to the kitchen through the darkness that was only illuminated by blue tinted nightlights his mother insisted of placing everywhere. Marty could, confidently, say that he had a good day today. He skated around with no goal in mind and got the closure of Doc's place that he needed, one that spelt out the words, "gone for good".

He opened up the refrigerator, crouching down into a squat as his eyes scanned the brightly designed labels of a fully stocked supply. He thought to himself more, never not thinking. He didn't hate Doc, no, but he felt dirty every time he thought of the man. How could his closest friend take advantage of him like that? How could Doc have allowed him to get the alcohol? How could the older proceeded with the sex?

Reaching for a Pepsi-Free, he felt the cool of the aluminum tingle his warm hand, causing his face to cringe in the yellow fridge light from the frost that invaded his skin. He stood up straight, closing the door softly as to not wake his family. They needed their rest after the "situation" around town was now dying down. He wasn't the only one who was caused emotional distress by this entire thing.

Walking to his room, he picked up the leather mind map helmet and blew the dust off of it, rolling his eyes at yet another nightlight that filled the hallway in the small white plated wall socket. He put the helmet on for his own humor, eyes lighting up in surprise as the hallway now filled with the bright yellow light of the reader. The lightbulb flickered to bright green as Marty smirked and whispered aloud to himself, "No way, it works?"

Chucking, Marty opened his bedroom door and walked in, thinking of how Emmett used to fawn over Edna as if she was some angel from the heavens or perfectly crafted Goddess when in reality her spirit was held to more Hell-ish side of the spectrum. Once he was inside his room, Marty closed the door with a soft click, taking small steps to his bed as he tossed the can of Pepsi onto his mattress, lifting his arms in the air above his brown mixed hair to stretch out in the open. His eyes narrowed when he saw Einstein laying on his pillow, but not for being on the bed. A growl admitted towards Marty from his now claimed pet, causing Marty to tilt his head in confusion.

"Einey? What's wrong, buddy?"

Another low growl, Einstein curled into a ball now having lift his head from the comfy position he was in. His black eyes watched in the dark, aimed directly at Marty. It took the teenager a moment to realize that Einstein wasn't growling at him. The loyal golden dog was warning somebody behind Marty, staring straight through his body.

Marty swallowed hard in the almost pitch black room, his throat dry. His body ran cold as if he had been plunged in ice water, his breath catching in his throat as his heart beated loudly in his ears with adrenaline. Einstein wasn't the type of dog to growl at nothing, rarely growling at anybody to begin with.

Marty closed his pale blue eyes softly, his mind map helmet emitting a constant light of dim red that was the illumination in the bedroom. His chapped lips opened, choosing his words carefully that caused Einstein to cease growling in order to hear his vocals. "Please, don't hurt me."

He couldn't decide if it was a Tannen, a crazed fan of his father's, or someone who wanted a glimpse for themselves of the boy who was the cover of many newspapers. Whoever the intruder was, Marty prepared himself for the worst just like he always had in bad situations.

Marty's entire body went stiff when behind him he felt a taller body, a hand swiftly going over his lips to cover them from emitting sound while the second hand wrapped around his chest underneath both arms. Marty's breath starting to come out quickly from his nose, eyes widening and hands shaking quicker than any occasion he could place. His heart nearly stopped with the husk voice of an older friend whispered in his ear, breath hitting his earlobe with it.

"Don't. Scream."

It was Doc.

His helmet flickered to green for a second as the happiness in his chest rose, moving his hands up to the hand over his mouth to push it away and vocalize some words of happiness, but the realization of who all Doc now was came crashing back down. The helmet shown a deep red, skipping yellow altogether in an act of defiance. Marty did the exact opposite instructions that Emmett asked of, Doc's body against Marty's back in something of an affectionate manner due to the guess of Marty being touched starved.

Marty tried to scream as loud as he could, his cries only being muffled by the strong hand that he gripped and tug to pull away. Marty flung himself backwards into the wall, sending Doc hitting the wooden dresser (along with knobs) sharply, letting the air get knocked out of him in the sudden movement. Thought he was old, Doc still had a considerable amount of strength in him from the years of lifting heavy machinery and continuous pacing with movement. Unable to bring himself to wrestle Marty, he slid down the knobs of the dresser with the young boy still in his tight grip until they were on the floor. Proceeding to wrap his legs in a pretzel around Marty's lap, holding him tightly to him, Doc whispered like a record stuck, "It's me, it's me, it's me."

The panic attack didn't cease, only bringing out more raw emotions that Marty didn't even know he had. He struggled hard, trying to bite the soft hand, dig his nails into any flesh his restrained fingers could reach, and kick at the floor trying to make noise that would alert anyone in the home. When slamming his head back into Doc's face no longer worked since Emmett now rested his chin on Marty's left shoulder, he started the stretch that led to giving up. He sobbed, tears falling down and pooling in small cracks of the top side of Doc's hand, still trying his best to get him to remove the fingers from covering his only way of calling for help. His chest rose at an alarming rate, falling with the air escaping through his nose as his eyes desperately stared at Einstein for any form of rescue, the dog being confused as he watched back from on top of the bed.

Doc sniffled, shaking his head as he let Marty continue to try and struggle from his frame. Hearing, and witnessing, Marty hyperventilate, he spoke into the tanned ear once more with the calm collected tone he had before. "Marty, if you don't slow your breathing, you'll pass out. You're not giving your brain enough oxygen."

Marty refused to listen, his entire body quaking with nerves as he tried to break free from his violator. Unable to move, still, he heard the words of encouragement to slow down from Doc behind him. Out of spite, his mind raced faster and he was reminded of what Doc had done to him once more.

"It's me, Marty, it's your Doc. Please, please just breathe."

The last thing Marty remembered before completely passing out in the arms of Emmett, was the scientist speaking to him directly, Marty's muscles loosened as his head started to fall to the side without his control. "Don't fight it, Marty. Just relax and let go- that's it. Just like that."

Marty's fast paced breaths started to balance out when he lost consciousness after giving up as Doc had asked, his body going into autopilot as if he wasn't laying in the arms of Emmett Brown in the dark of his now yellow neutral lit room.

When his panicked eyes closed, hands trying to pull of Doc's fingers now falling to the ground in a rag doll sense, Emmett released the cover of Marty's mouth and let out a deep sigh. He hugged Marty from the back tightly, burying his head into the sleeping teenager's with the yearn to never let go attempting to persuade him.

"I'm sorry."


End file.
